


#EmilyLives

by Troodon



Series: I'll Drown Them In Blood For You, My Dear [3]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Child Injury, Gen, Gerome is suprisingly good with kids, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 16:11:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9392843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Troodon/pseuds/Troodon
Summary: A What If scenario. What If Emily lived? How would she react to everything during Legacies?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've smudged up the timeline on this one, stretched it out a bit.
> 
> Shockingly enough, I'm a sucker for Em & Outsider interactions.

When the Whalers attacked, Emily tried to protect Mother. They held Corvo in the green light, and he couldn't protect her, so Emily had to do the job. To be honest, she doesn't remember nearly dying very clearly. There was pain, and Mother and Corvo were yelling. She remembers Doctor Sokolov saying some very bad words in Tyvian, but she promised him not to tell Corvo. Then she doesn't remember anything for a while. Mother said Emily was in surgery, and nearly lost her arm. She said it's a miracle Emily can even move it.

Then Mother was quiet for a long time, and Emily was sent out to spend some time with relatives in the country estate. There, Emily had Doctor Sokolov help her get back most of the use of her arm, even though it hurt a lot. There were a lot of exercises and sometimes Emily wanted to throw things and scream. Emily spent months there in the estate, angry at everyone and hating the bad men that hurt her. Mother and Corvo visited very rarely, saying they were finding the bad men who had tried to kill Mother, and making them pay.

Though it took months, eventually Emily could return to Dunwall. When she arrived, Corvo took her aside and told her about the new people Mother had hired. He said Emily didn't have to forgive them, but they were being paid to keep everyone safe. He told her that the man that had stabbed her and tried to kill Mother was here, and he wanted to see Emily, but Emily didn't need to go if she was scared.

“I'm not scared, Corvo,” Emily said, hoping he couldn't hear the quaver in her voice.

Corvo got that look on his face, the one he got whenever Emily did something he liked. All warm and soft. He led her to the sitting room Lord Burrows used, but it wasn't the egg-headed spymaster there anymore.

Instead it was the Scarred Man Emily had nightmares about.

As soon as he saw her, he looked relieved. Then he saw the sling she had to keep her arm in, and his face became blank. The Scarred Man began to walk towards her, and Emily tried to hide her need to put Corvo between them. The Scarred Man must have seen that, because he stopped a few paces away from her and dropped to his knees.

“Lady Emily,” he said. His voice was all raspy and harsh, like the sound of Corvo's cheek when he doesn't shave for a day. The Scarred Man pulled out his sword, and Emily took a few quick steps back before he could use it on her. The Man's face twisted, and he stared at the ground. Instead of pointing the sword at her, though, he laid it flat along his palms and offered it to her.

“Lady Emily, I'd like to offer my unconditional surrender,” the Scarred Man said. “As well as my deepest apologies. It was never our-- my intent to injure you.”

Emily looked at Corvo. He usually knew what to do, but he was watching the Scarred Man with narrowed eyes.

“What was your intent?” Emily took a tiny step forward. Corvo would have killed the Scarred Man if he was going to hurt her.

“We were paid to kill your mother, and deliver you to the Pendleton twins,” the Scarred Man said. He kept his head lowered.

“So, it was your job? Who hired you?” Emily felt conflicted. Her mother always said not to hate the people just doing their jobs, and instead go for the source, but she wasn't sure the same rules applied to murderers.

“Hiram Burrows and Thaddeus Campbell.” The Scarred Man still didn't move. “They're gone, now. Burrows is dead and Campbell is disgraced.”

Emily mulled that over. Mother and the Scriptures said forgiveness was a virtue, but this man had tried to kill Mother and nearly killed her. Emily came to a decision and took the blade from the Scarred Man.

“I accept your surrender, Mister...” she trailed off, mildly embarrassed at not knowing the Scarred Man's name.

“Daud,” he rasped. Emily nodded as regally as her ten-year-old dignity allowed.

“...Mister Daud, but you don't have my forgiveness yet. Mother says you have to earn that with actions, not words.”

The corner of Mister Daud's lips quirked. “Well, it's been made obvious to me that your mother is a very wise woman.”

Emily nodded. Everyone knew Mother was the best.

“I expect to see good things from you, Mister Daud,” she told him, remembering Mother saying that to another man.

Corvo coughed. Emily glanced up at him, hoping he wasn't getting sick.

“So are you our new spymaster? Oh, and you may rise,” Emily added, belatedly. Daud just shifted into a crouch so he stayed at eye level with her.

“No, that's my second, Thomas,” he said. “I was going to leave, actually.”

Emily got a brilliant idea. Mister Daud had beaten Corvo, even though he was using black magic, and got past all the guards. That meant he was a really good fighter, and knew how assassins thought.

“Then you can be my Lord Protector until I'm old enough to choose my own!”

Corvo made a choking noise, and Mister Daud rocked back on his heels with his eyes wide. “I don't think your fa... mother would appreciate that,” he told her, once he recovered.

“But you can work with Corvo and make sure no one else can get in the way you did! And Mother must trust you somewhat, or you'd have been locked up already!” Honestly, adults were so slow to understand her amazing logic.

“Why don't you discuss it with your mother,” Corvo said, reaching to take the heavy sword from her hands. Emily stepped out of reach and glared.

“Corvo, it's my choice,” she snapped. “I'm ten years old. That's nearly old enough to choose my own Lord or Lady Protector. And they were able to get around even you, and you're the best there is!”

Corvo looked briefly stricken, then he closed his eyes. “You should discuss this with your mother. Your safety is still very important to us.”

“ _Then why didn't you visit me more,_ ” Emily yelled, feeling tears well up in her eyes. “You left me all alone when I was really badly hurt! Both you _and_ Mother!” She threw the sword down and dashed out of the room, trying not to see Corvo's hurt face and Mister Daud's uncomfortable one.

She didn't know where she was running, beyond her goal to get as far away from that room as she could.

Emily turned a final corner and barrelled into someone.

“What the shit?!” Hands grabbed at her to keep her from falling backwards. Emily scrubbed at her face with her functioning arm, and managed a watery “thank you, sir” to whoever it was. Once all tears were wiped away, she peered up at the man.

Grey-brown hair pulled into a short tail. Half his shirt untucked, and the hem fraying a little. Some mysterious stains on the white linen, and his trousers were wrinkled. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing scarred forearms and tattoos.

“You okay there, girl?” The man fished around in a pouch and pulled out a ratty handkerchief. “You hurt?”

“No, thank you, sir,” Emily mumbled into the handkerchief. She blew her nose. “Who are you?”

“Gerome Burton,” the man said, crouching down and stubbing out a lit cigarette. “What's got you so upset, darlin'? Need me to stab someone? I got lots of knives, you know.”

Emily couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but decided to err on the side of caution. “Thank you for offering, Mister Burton, but Mother says not to just kill people who annoy you, or most of the court would be dead.”

“Aw, Outsider's eyes, girl,” Gerome said, pulling a face that made her giggle. “Don't with the 'Mister' shit, alright? Just call me Gerome.”

“Mister Gerome,” Emily said, trying and failing to not grin as Gerome looked aggrieved.

“Hey there,” he growled with exaggerated dislike, “I ought to go file a damn complaint with your mum. Where are you parents, by the way?”

“Mother's likely stuck in the throne room,” Emily said, feeling a surge of that same disquiet that had made her say those things to Corvo. “...but I don't want to see her right now.”

Gerome gave her an assessing look that lingered on her sling. A harsh look passed over his face before he visibly forced it to soften. “Fine by me,” he finally said. “I can't stand those stuffy choffers anyways.”

Emily giggled again. He really liked using bad words. He was worse than Doctor Sokolov!

“Kid, how old are you?”

“I'm ten,” Emily answered, drawing herself up to her full height.

“Ten, huh,” Gerome said, rubbing at his chin. It rasped loudly. “Well, you've got two options. You can come with me and sit in the common room until someone goes looking, or I can teach you how to throw knives.”

“ _Knives, please!_ ” Even Corvo wouldn't teach her that!

Gerome grinned, revealing crooked teeth. “Gotcha,” he said, and suddenly dipped and swung her up onto his back. Emily shrieked with glee and held tight.

Gerome started forward. “Hey, wanna see a magic trick?”

“You can do magic?” Emily was amazed. It seemed like everyone had powers now!

“Yup,” Gerome confirmed. “Anyone watching?”

Emily peered around. “No. What are you going to do?”

“Just hang on, girl,” he said. She could hear him grinning.

“But what are y--” She was cut off as the world around her blurred with shadows and movement. There was a sensation of falling, a swooping feeling in her stomach, and then everything was normal again.

Now, instead of the red carpets and warm wood of the halls, they were in an older room filled with tables and benches, with a fireplace and armchairs shoved up against the wall. Scattered around the room were men and women of varying sizes and ages, eating, talking, cleaning weaponry. Gerome passed through them, ignoring the stares and whispering following in his wake.

“How did you do that?” Emily asked.

“'S called 'Transversals',” Gerome told her, sounding smug. “I got no idea how it works, 'cept through magic. You gotta keep it a secret from the Overseers, though. Promise?”

Even though he couldn't see her, Emily nodded solemnly. “I promise. I don't like the Overseers very much, anyway.”

“Atta girl,” Gerome said, before stopping in a room filled with targets and dummies. “Down you get, now.”

Emily slithered down his back. “Are you going to teach me how to throw knives now?”

“Sure,” he said, pulling a knife from his boot, then seeming to change his mind and pulling smaller ones from the bandoleer across his chest. “Here. You hold it like this...”

Emily quickly lost track of the time. Sometimes other people would come into the room, only for Gerome to shoo them back out, yelling “It's fuckin' reserved, you mannerless hagfish” until they left. This always ended with Emily doubled over with giggles, and whoever interrupted making rude gestures and yelling something back.

Eventually, someone came storming in.

“Gerome, what the hell am I hearing about you kidnapping a _child_?” The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with blond hair and really blue eyes.

“Ah, fuck off, Thomas,” Gerome said, correcting Emily's stance. “I didn't kidnap her. She came with me on her own.”

Thomas, meanwhile, was gaping comically at Emily. With a shake, he seemed to gather his wits and bowed deeply to her.

“Lady Emily,” he said, “I believe people are looking for you.”

“Lady what?” Gerome looked puzzled. “You're a noble?” Then it seemed to click.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you,” Emily said, slumping a little. She didn't like lying but... “I didn't want to be treated as a Lady, I just wanted to be Emily for a bit and you were really nice!”

“I'll escort Lady Emily to her guardian,” Thomas said, looking severely at Gerome, who in turn blithely ignored him. “Gerome, you're on clean-up for a week for this.”

“Oh, don't punish Gerome, please, Mister Thomas,” Emily pleaded, widening her eyes and looking as woeful as she could. “He was only helping me. It's my fault, really.” She went to tuck her fingers under her chin, but when she tried to move her bad arm, pain jolted up it and she flinched.

“Are you alright, Lady Emily?” Thomas made an aborted movement forward, then stopped. “Do you need a physician?”

“I'm all right,” Emily said. She lightly touched her shoulder, grimacing a little at the numb prickles that pulsed down her arm.

“Is that were you got hurt? During the job?”

Emily's head snapped up to stare at Thomas. These weren't workers or guards. Workers or guards wouldn't call the attack a job. Only the people hired would.

“You were there,” she breathed. “You're assassins.”

“We were,” Thomas said, inclining his head. “Now we're spies, employed by your mother, the Empress.”

“Mother employed you?” Mother usually liked to hire people she found that excelled at certain tasks. She liked to hire on merit, not politics.

“Yes, and Lord Attano is searching for you, Lady Emily,” Thomas said. “Shall we go find him?”

“Can you do the same magic trick Gerome did? With the t- train- transylverting?” Emily demanded. Thomas glared at Gerome's profile. Gerome looked innocently at the ceiling.

“Well, since we are apparently being completely open about being wanted heretics,” Thomas drawled scathingly at Gerome. Gerome flashed him a grin.

“Calm the fuck down,” he said gesturing to Emily. “Em here is a true lady. She ain't gonna give us up to the Overseers.”

Emily attempted to look as Ladylike as possible. Thomas looked unconvinced.

“We can't as it is,” he told her. “The halls are swarming with guards. Lady Emily, we need to bring you to their attention as soon as possible, before the Lord Protector thinks we've harmed you.”

“I see,” Emily said. She turned to Gerome. “Gerome, it was a pleasure meeting you, and I hope you will allow me the honour of seeing you again?”

Gerome looked mildly panicked. “Uh, sure. Yeah. Honour and all that.”

Thomas escorted her back out of the rooms. This time, some of the assassins waved to her.

***

When Emily first met the Outsider, she was asleep.

She opened her eyes to featureless grey and black slate. A light hung off in the distance, but she didn't think it was the sun.

“Hello?” Normally when Emily dreamed, she didn't know if it was a dream. This felt different, but she couldn't be sure. For one, her arm wasn't hurting, and for two, a man with black, black eyes was floating on nothing but shadows.

“Hello, Emily,” the Black-Eyed Man said. “I just wanted to meet you.” He smiled, but it didn't seem quite like a nice smile. “I wanted to see what your parents were fighting for. You're rather small for someone who could topple the Empire just by ceasing to exist.”

Emily stood as tall as she could. How dare he! She was a princess, and she was not short!

“Doctor Sokolov says I'm 0.02 centimetres over the average for my age,” Emily informed him with as much dignity as she could.

“A titan, indeed,” the Black-Eyed Man said. It was hard to tell if he was serious, or mocking her.

Emily finally couldn't stand her curiosity any more.

“How are you floating? Why are your eyes so black? Aren't you going to tell me who you are? Am I dreaming or not?”

The Black-Eyed Man seemed to smile, just a little. “Aren't you a curious little thing?”

Emily huffed. “Yes, I am. Aren't you going to answer my questions?”

The Black-Eyed Man was definitely amused now. Emily tried her best to make the same glare Mother could make that left all the Lords and Ladies stuttering.

“The answers to all your questions are this: this is the Void, and I am the Outsider.,” the Outsider said.

Emily thought about this. “Are you going to take my soul? Because I'm only ten years old and you would probably want an older, more mature soul.”

This time the Outsider laughs outright, a hissing, dry chuckle that echoes strangely around them long after he's ceased. “Oh, little Emily Kaldwin,” he says, ignoring as she bristles at the 'little'. “That's rather self-centred of you. No, your Abbey books are wrong. I would have no use for your soul even if I did want it.”

“Good,” Emily declared. “You mentioned my parents. Do you know them?”

The Outsider disappeared.

“You could say I'm a friend of your mother's,” he said, reappearing behind her. Emily turned around so fast she nearly stumbled.

“Don't sneak up on people,” she chastised. “My governess says its rude.” She hesitated, though, torn. Corvo said not to tell people his advice, or they'd think he was a bad influence. Which was just silly! Corvo was the best there was! “Corvo, though, says it's a good skill to have.”

“Do you always listen to what others say?” The Outsider looked amused again.

Emily leaned forward and asked, “Can you keep a secret?”

The Outsider leaned forward too. “Only if you ask me to.”

“Sometimes I hide from my governess,” she whispered. “She's really boring, and she's really rude to the servants. So I think her advice is less good than Corvo's.”

She leaned back, and regarded the Outsider seriously. “Now you have to pinkie swear not to tell anyone I said that.” She held out her little finger to the god. With a solemn look, the Outsider clasped her pinkie with his own and shook it.

“The pact is made,” he said. “Now off to bed with you, child. Do try not to die, it would be utterly boring.”

***

The second time Emily met the Outsider, Mother introduced him. Emily was allowed to stay up late, wish Gerome, and Mister Thomas, and Lady Calla, and Mister Daud, and all the hounds goodnight, and then Mother took her to her rooms. They slipped into Mother's secret room, and she showed Emily a hidden shrine wrapped in violet fabric. Across from it were two comfortable chairs and a table piled with books.

“Emily, I'd like you to meet my friend, the Outsider,” Mother said. Emily looked up at the dark shape wreathed in shadows.

“Hello, again, Mister Outsider,” Emily said. Mother whipped around to look at her.

“ _Again?!_ ” Mother looked furious.

The Outsider smiled, a sharp little grin. “Well, she isn't the only one who's curious, my dear,” he said. “I wanted to see what the fuss was about.”

“Honestly,” Mother said, making the same face she did when Emily filled Grandfather's clock with frogs. “You have no patience. Which is shocking, considering your age.”

The Outsider disappeared, reappearing in a swirl of nothing, perched on the back of one of the chairs.

“Well, I wanted to see her in case any of the other possibilities came to be.”

Mother clenched her fist. “...What possibilities.”

The Outsider waved a dismissive hand. “Sepsis,” he listed off. “Plague, angry mobs, accidents-turned-fatal. The usual sort that kills you humans so quickly.”

Emily wasn't bothered by these things. She knew Corvo and Mister Daud would keep her safe. They were the best! And even though Mister Daud beat Corvo once, it was using magic, which is cheating! But Corvo and Mother have magic now so then that means Emily is safe here.

“I bet if you give me magic like Mother or Corvo or Mister Daud, then I'd stay alive longer,” Emily said, trying for an innocent tone. Mother and the Outsider both stopped talking over her and looked down. “I promise to only use it responsibly.”

Mother sighed and pinched her nose. “Darling, no. I can't believe I have to say this, but no pacts with ancient gods.”

Emily giggled at her aggrieved tone. Spotting some blank paper on the desk outside, she ran over to grab some, and some crayons as well. Mother always kept crayons in her desk for when Emily visited.

She rushed back and offered them to the Outsider. “Do you like to draw?”

The god took the offering, solemnly. “I don't know,” he said, holding the crayons oddly and looking from them to the pages.

“Here,” Emily said, pushing the books until there was a clear spot on the table. She reached out and took the black crayon from the Outsider. “You do it like this.”

She began by drawing the outlines. Long arms and legs. Short hair. Black eyes. Shadows squirming beneath his feet.

“Brown crayon,” she ordered, holding out a hand. When the crayon was deposited in her palm, she began filling out his jacket and trousers. A bit more black... and done! Emily carefully wrote 'Outsider' above his head, just so he'd be sure it was him.

“There,” she declared, holding up the picture. “For you!”

The Outsider gently took the picture, peering down at it. “Well,” he said, sounding dry. “Despite everything, it's still better than Sokolov's painting.”

“You think it's better than Doctor Sokolov's?” Doctor Sokolov's paintings were the best! They were practically real! But-- “Wait. What do you mean 'despite everything'?”

The Outsider reached out and patted her head. It was weird, like he had only seen the act, not actually done it.

“Outsider, you aren't answering anything!” Emily hated it when adults did that!

Mother sat in one of the chairs, letting the Outsider sit in the other. “He's terrible at straight answers,” Mother said. The Outsider perched on the arm of the chair, looking bemusedly at the picture.

“Draw with me,” Emily said. The Outsider disappeared, appearing again crouched by the table.

“What do I draw?”

“Anything,” Emily said, already selecting another crayon and beginning a drawing of whales. “It can be stuff you see, stuff you think about, people, animals. That sort of thing.”

The Outsider frowned, picked up a black crayon and began drawing swirls and loops. Emily beamed at him. The Outsider seemed confused by her happiness and focussed on his drawing. Mother made herself and the Outsider a cup of tea. Emily didn't like tea. It was so bitter, almost as bad as the coffee Corvo drank.

Once they finished their drawings Emily instructed the Outsider to sign his work, since Doctor Sokolov said it was a good idea and proved that her drawing was hers. While Emily added some finishing touches to her whale, the Outsider wrote something down in weird shapes and letters.

Emily peered over at the strange writing. “What language is that?”

“One that hasn't been used since long before you were born,” he said. Emily stood up and rounded the table to hug him tightly. The Outsider made a startled noise, and sat stiffly until Emily let go.

“What was that for?” He looked a little ruffled by it, like a cat that didn't like being petted.

“You looked sad,” Emily said, glancing up at Mother. Sometimes she did things that weren't appropriate for 'esteemed guests', but Mother was trying to cover a happy smile. “Hugs make people feel better.”

“I-- Yes, thank you,” the Outsider said, and vanished again. This time he didn't come back.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, my darling,” Mother said, scooping her up into a hug. Emily cuddled close. Mother didn't hug much anymore now that Emily was older. “You did very well. I'm so very proud of you.”

Emily beamed and rested her head on Mother's shoulder. “He's nice. We should visit him.”

Mother carried her out of the secret room, pausing to seal it up again. “We'll see him again. He likes coming by. Maybe you'll see him again soon.”

“I hope so,” Emily said around a yawn, already beginning to doze. “I like him. He's weird, but he's nice.”

“I like him, too,” Mother said, tucking Emily into bed. “Goodnight, my darling girl.”

“Goodnight, Mother,” Emily mumbled, curling up under the warmed sheets. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Emily.”

***

The third time Emily met the Outsider, he was human.

Emily was teaching some of the Whaler children the proper way to play hopscotch when Gerome and Mister Thomas and Cedric and Lady Calla and another big Whaler that always hid when he saw Emily came in the door.

“You're back!” Emily dashed across the room to hug Gerome, who immediately tossed her into the air. Gerome was the best.

“Hullo, Lady Em,” Cedric said, smiling up at her. Emily beamed at him, before sobering.

“You're hurt,” she exclaimed. Gerome put her down on the ground and she immediately went over to him. Then she took a step back and wrinkled her nose. “Why do you all stink?”

“We were in the sewers,” Lady Calla said. Gerome once tried to tell her that Lady Calla wasn't a Lady, but she just picked him up and threw him across the room. Emily decided that when she grew up, she was going to be just like Lady Calla.

“Why were you in the sewers? They're really unsanintery.”

“Unsanitary,” Mister Thomas corrected absently, tugging off his gloves and pulling a face.

“Unsanitary,” Emily repeated dutifully. Then she whispered to Gerome, in case he didn't know what that meant, “ _That means they're full of poo!_ ”

“And rats,” Gerome whispered back. “And a witch. Your mom fought one and won. Want me to take you to her?”

Emily opened her mouth to say “Yes please”, but another wave of stench rose off the group. “Maybe after you get clean. You really, really stink.”

Gerome grinned and ruffled her hair. Lady Calla was already taking off her shirt, and Cedric was already gone into the barracks.

Mister Thomas crouched in front of her. “Lady Emily, I know you want to go see your mother right away, but we did this mission for a very important reason. A friend of hers was kidnapped by the witch, and we were going to rescue him. Unfortunately, he was really badly hurt, so your mother and Corvo are helping him.”

“Why aren't they calling Doctor Sokolov?”

“...I can't speak for the Empress, but I'm sure she had good reasons,” Mister Thomas said. “It may take a while for her to be available to see you, though.”

“What about Mister Daud?”

“He's with the Empress and Lord Attano,” Mister Thomas said. “The... person they rescued is a friend of theirs.”

Emily stared at him, wide-eyed. “It's the Outsider,” she breathed. Mister Thomas' eye grew huge, but Emily didn't stay to hear what he was going to say. She rushed through the door and down the corridors, dodging servants who were cleaning the mess the Whalers had tracked to the room.

Without even knocking, Emily rushed into Mother's room, but found it empty. Mister Daud's room, and Corvo's rooms were empty too.

She was just about to give up when she remembered the guest rooms a floor below. Emily ran for the lift and bounced on her toes, waiting for it to reach the guest wing. As soon as the doors opened enough for her to squeeze in between them, she was running down the halls, opening and closing doors, looking for everyone.

Before she could find them, a door down the hall opened, and Mister Daud stepped out. Emily, mostly out of breath, hurried over to him.

“Mister Daud,” she panted. “What... Where is he?”

Mister Daud looked annoyed, but Gerome had told her that 'it's just his face'. He also glanced at her lame arm, but he always did that. Mother said he was really guilty about it. Emily thought he had better be.

“How the hell do you know about that black-eyed bast--” Mister Daud stopped mid-word. He did that a lot around Emily. She always did the nice thing and pretended she hadn't already heard Gerome say all the bad words.

“He draws with me, sometimes,” she told him. “He really likes Mother, and talks about her and Corvo a lot, and draws scary pictures, and likes cheese.”

Mister Daud's mouth was hanging open. “...Does he,” he said, weakly.

“Is the Outsider inside?” Emily was growing impatient. Sometimes adults were so slow!

“He's not the Outsider anymore,” Mister Daud said, looking uncomfortable. “And you shouldn't say his name. You don't want the Overseers to find out he's here.”

Emily nodded solemnly. “I promise. What do I call him, then?”

Mister Daud's lips twisted. Emily was sure how to interpret that expression. “I heard him use the name 'Abantes'.”

“Abantes,” Emily repeated, tasting the foreign word on her tongue. It was a weird name. Can I see him?”

“He's asleep,” Mister Daud said. Then his eyes narrowed, and Emily knew she was in trouble. “Shouldn't you be doing your studies?”

“Governess White was ill,” she informed him, hoping he'd leave it at that. But Mister Daud was even harder to trick than Corvo.

“Is that so,” he said. It wasn't even a question. “And what did you put in her food to make her that way?”

Emily puffed up. One time! She had poisoned her governess one time, and Mister Daud never let her hear the end of it. She blamed the Twins.

“I didn't do anything!” At his severe look, she deflated. “...Beyond a bit of itching powder in her clothing.” Before he could say anything, she hastily added, “Please don't tell Mother?”

“You are very lucky your mother is busy tending to th- to Abantes,” Mister Daud growled, looking like he'd very much like to cuff her ear, like he did to misbehaving Whalers. “Give me a minute to talk to your parents. I need to make sure Abantes is decent.”

Mister Daud went back inside, closing the door before Emily could peek around him. She pressed her ear to the wood, trying to make out words in the mumble of voices.

The door opened abruptly, nearly causing Emily to take a tumble into the room. She looked up to see Mister Daud looking at her with an eyebrow raised. Emily hastily straightened her clothing and tried to look dignified.

“Get your textbooks,” he said. “Your mother says you can study in here, _if_ you stay quiet.”

“I promise,” Emily whispered, scampering off to get her books.

Soon she was back, lugging all her schooling supplies. She carried it into the room and carefully put it on the desk, not letting the heavy books thump like they usually do. Then she hurried over to the bed.

Abantes looked exactly like he did as the Outsider. He was only missing the shadows that curled around him. And a shirt. But otherwise, he was the same tall, pale man he had been.

“Is he really badly hurt?” Emily worried. Mother, too, looked hurt, but she was drinking elixirs to heal the bad bruises around her throat.

“All of his cuts are just cuts,” Corvo said. He smelled bad too, but his arms and hands were clean. “We're worried about infection. We think we got the elixir in him on time, but it's always a worry.” He looked over at Emily, grey eyes all worried. “Go do your homework, Em. We'll watch over him.”

Emily went to the desk and tried to lose herself in her homework. The problem was, homework was so boring. Eventually, it was time for Emily to go to bed. She extracted promises from both Corvo and Mother that they would wake her if Abantes woke up.

Emily woke up early the next morning to find a fallen god sitting in her chair, nibbling at fruit.

“Out-- I mean, Abantes! You're awake,” Emily dashed out of bed to hug her friend, remembering at the last minute to be gentle.

“Emily,” he greeted, muffled slightly by the frills on her nightdress. “I see you're as enthusiastic as always.”

Emily pulled back to say something, but the words died in her throat at the pale, sightless eyes staring up at her.

“You're blind,” she said, shocked.

Abantes' lips quirked in a smirk. “Am I? I thought the room was just dark. Oh dear me.”

“Abantes,” Emily scolded. “Don't be mean. Were you always blind? You still drew pictures, though I couldn't tell what they were, and sometimes they were kind of scary. Mother said you liked to read too. Oh, was it magic? Wait, how did you get here?”

Abantes popped a grape in his mouth, an eyebrow raised.

“Well?!”

“Oh,” he said, after chewing slowly and swallowing. “I was letting the torrent finish. Are you done?”

Emily huffed, pulling out another chair across from him and stealing some of his grapes. “Yes, I'm done,” she mumbled around a mouthful of fruit.

“I was blinded by a blow to the head as a child,” Abantes said, feeling the plate of fruit and taking a Morley apple. “The Void restored my sight. Now that I'm human again, I have been returned to my pre-deified form, and have been blinded anew. As for how I got here, your mother dropped me off so I would have company while she tended to court functions.”

Emily peeled him a plantain. “Here, try this one,” she said, handing it to him. “You wouldn't have liked the court stuff anyways. It's really boring, and some people are really loud and rude.”

Abantes felt along the plantain with a raised eyebrow. “If I didn't know better...” he said, but shook his head when Emily made a confused noise. “Nevermind. You're likely right. Court intrigue always bored me.”

“Ooh, an apricot tartlet! Those are my favourites,” she confessed. “Have you ever had one?”

Abantes shook his head, popping the last bite of plantain into his mouth.

Emily broke her tartlet in half, and nudged his hand with the bigger half. Abantes took a bite, and his eyebrows rose in shock.

“This is delicious,” he exclaimed, looking delighted. “Do you have more of these?”

Emily grinned. “No, but I know how to get some.”

Two hours later, the two were lying on their backs, groaning in agony as their stomachs protested the amount of rich sweets they'd eaten.

“Four thousand years of being a god, and I've been brought low by a ten-year-old,” Abantes moaned. He had an arm flung over his eyes.

Emily groaned. “I'd be happy I won the eating contest, but uggghhhh...”

There was a knock at the door. Mister Daud poked his head in and smirked at them.

“Now do you see why you shouldn't overindulge in sweets?”

“I regret nothing,” Emily declared. “I needed to win. And I beat him with only one arm.”

Mister Daud's smirk fell off his face. He cleared his throat and shuffled a little.

“Your governess is miraculously cured of the mysterious rash that appeared on her,” he said. “You're to attend the afternoon lessons, since you're currently incapacitated. _If_ you promise you'll attend and pay attention.”

Emily beamed at him. “Thank you, Mister Daud. I promise!”

Mister Daud took one last look at the two of them sprawled on the ground and rolled his eyes. Then he withdrew, closing the door with a gentle click.

“Do you want to stay here,” Emily asked, “or come with me to my lessons?”

“We'll see how my stomach feels,” Abantes answered, still not moving his arm. “And if I survive.”

Emily snorted. “Mother is right,” she said. “You _are_ dramatic.”

She ignored the indignant noises that ensued.


End file.
